


The Viking Way

by ArixaBell



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fail!Rape, Humor, M/M, Rape of the willing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:36:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArixaBell/pseuds/ArixaBell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reaching his breaking point with annoyance toward America, Canada decides to do the unthinkable and go all rapey on him. But Canada is just too polite and too French to really make sex unpleasant. America enjoys it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Viking Way

**Author's Note:**

> Uploading my fanfiction.net stories here.  
> Originally published 5/2/11
> 
> Originally filled for [this](http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10530.html?thread=15594786#t15594786) kink meme request.

"He's late."

Germany's grumbled complaint met with groans and sighs. Nobody liked late nations, as starting late meant ending late.

"You'd think there was a war going on," France said with a sniff.

"One we needed his help in, you mean," England said. "Next time there's yet another conflict he's thinking about sticking his unwanted nose in, we should all pretend we desperately want his aid. Then he'll be reluctant to join in."

"You guys shouldn't be so mean..." Finland said. He glanced around for moral support, eyes landing on the one person he assumed would help defend America. "Right? ... Um..."

The other nations followed his gaze, and England froze. "Oh shite. I didn't know you were here! I didn't mean any of it, America, really, just joking."

The nation in question scowled. "I'm Canada."

"Ah... sorry, lad."

"We don't look anything alike!"

"Um, but..."

"Our hair is different. Our eyes are different. He's tubbier than me."

"He really isn't any-"

"We look different!" Canada said, crossing his arms.

England finally just nodded. "Of course you do."

"Are you okay?" France asked, scooting his chair closer to put a comforting hand on Canada's shoulder, or perhaps aiming somewhere lower.

"Fine." Canada lasted about five seconds before cracking under the pressure. "Since I arrived last night, I have been insulted and booed several times for being American. I almost got tripped once!"

"You should look on the bright side," Italy said with a grin. "You're protecting your brother from having that happen to him!"

"That's not a bright side! He's the idiot making everyone hate him, he can suffer the consequences."

"I never thought I would say this," Germany said, "but would you please quiet down, Canada?"

"He's so thoughtless," Canada said, and the others settled back and braced themselves for another long rant. "Never thinks about the consequences, whether it's picking fights, or spending, or eating, or invading his neighbor..."

France blinked. "Just how long ago are you complaining about?"

"And nothing gets through to him!"

"Remember the good ol' viking days?" Denmark sighed happily into the empty mug he wasn't even bothering to hide anymore. "If we wanted to teach somebody a lesson, we'd throw them down and they would not forget that lesson!"

"Er..." England coughed. "That's... uh..."

"Don't act like pirates were much better!"

Germany rubbed a hand down his face. "Maybe we had better reconvene at a later time. Everybody, go back to your rooms, simmer down, sober up, come back at noon. And find America, please."

As the other nations exited the room, England exchanged a worried look with France, biting his lower lip. "Did you see the way the boy hurried out? I hope we haven't given him any ideas..."

* * *

"America!" Canada flung the door open so hard it rebounded off the wall, and he quickly stepped aside to avoid being smacked in the face. "So you are in here, you idiot!"

"Huh?" His brother looked up from the television with wide, confused eyes. "What's wrong, bro?"

Canada clenched his hands into fists at his side. "We were all waiting for you!"

America glanced at the clock. "The meeting starts in half an hour."

"It started at eight!"

"Eight? … Not ten?"

"They always start at eight!"

"Oh." America laughed that loud, obnoxious laugh of his, rubbing the back of his neck. "My bad! I guess it slipped my mind."

Canada ground his teeth. "Well it's at noon, now. We're postponing it because you're stupid."

"Somebody's in a mood today. And why are your pants all muddy?"

"Because somebody purposely drove through a puddle to splash me! Because there's a lot of anti-Americans here! Because you're an idiot!"

"Oh, yeah..." America's smile faltered. "I know there are. That's why I brought that, I haven't been picked on once." He jerked a thumb toward his bag, which had a maple leaf sewn onto it.

"Stop doing that!" Canada stalked closer. "At least take responsibility for your screw-ups! You can't just run away and pretend to be somebody else to hide from the problems _you've_ caused!"

"Why are you yelling?" America's smile fell entirely. "It's not my fault people think you're me. Next time it happens and you get picked on, I'll punch them, okay?"

"Augh! You are such an idiot! It's about time somebody taught you a lesson!"

"Lesson?" America blinked. "What sort of le—ack!" He struggled, waving his limbs around when Canada picked him up and flung him over a shoulder. "Put me down! What are you doing?"

"We're settling this the viking way."

"Burning down a village?"

"No."

"Drinking?"

"No!" Canada flung America onto the bed. He winced at the loud _crack_ of head meeting headboard. "Oh god, I'm sorry!"

"S'okay." America rubbed his head, wincing.

"All right." Canada climbed onto the bed after him, reaching for the half-buttoned, half-tucked in dress shirt. Nice of America to not even properly dress. It would make tearing everything off easier.

America blinked up at him. "Whatcha doing?"

"Shut up, eh?" Canada carefully removed each button from its button hole, before yanking the shirt open. Then he went for the pants.

"Ohh." America giggled. "So this is the viking way."

"Are you _laughing_? This is supposed to be punishment!" Canada shoved pants and underwear down past America's knees. He swallowed thickly when he saw that his brother was already half-hard. "You're as sick as you are stupid. You're getting turned on from being thrown down and taken by force."

"Sorry."

Canada needed to be more intimidating. He should knock something onto the floor, like the lamp maybe. But the only thing he could reach without getting up was the case for America's glasses, so he swept that off the table. America's reaction was a perplexed look.

As long as he was reaching for the bedside table, Canada tugged the drawer open. Its only contents were a Bible and a partly used tube, which he plucked out.

Every fiber of Canada's being was screaming at him over how wrong this was, just jumping straight to the rape. The memory of every time he had made love, every romance book he had read, every lesson he had had drilled into his head at France's knee as a child—all compelled Canada to lean over and kiss America's lips, sliding his tongue inside the willing mouth. He glided his hand over the exposed chest as he- _Wait, willing?_

Canada pulled back. "Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Kissing me back."

"Sorry."

Canada leaned back down, plunging his tongue into the now-unresponsive mouth. That was more like it. He let his hands roam again, caressing nipples that hardened under his touch, rubbing over abs that weren't nearly as tubby as Canada liked to believe. He trailed his kisses down America's jaw, and slid his hand lower, gripping his brother's cock, which hardened and swelled in his grip. America arched back, moaning.

Baffled, Canada stared down at America. "Shouldn't you be afraid? Why aren't you crying in fear?"

"I'm sorry," America said again. "I've never been raped before, this is new to me. I'll try and do it better." Tears welled up in his eyes and his lower lip trembled.

That was more like it. Canada scooted down along the bed, until he could lean over and lick a wet stripe up America's cock.

"Oh god," America gasped. "Oh, Mattie...!"

Canada chose to ignore him. He gave America a few more licks, squirting some lube onto his hands and warming it up. He hesitated, bit his lip, looking up into America's face. He had never even imagined he could be capable of rape, one of the most horrendous crimes one could do to another. What was he thinking? How... _Pain, pain of fire, York is burning, they're invading, why? Now we're both nations, but nobody notices me, they think I'm you, everything thinks I'm you. He's my friend, but he beats me up because he thinks I'm you, he hates you so much, because you're such an asshole. Everybody hates you, they all take it out on me, because you're so stupid, and nobody has the guts to tell you no, nobody will punish you, you should be punished!_

Canada shook his head, narrowing his eyes. "You... you're such a fucking bastard!" With an enraged cry, Canada reached between America's legs, and gently slid a slippery finger into him.

"Ahh." America squeezed his eyes shut, thighs jerking.

"Don't even bother begging, bitch!" Canada slid another finger in, carefully stretching. "You'll just make me madder!"

"Mmm."

"This is a long time coming!" Canada worked his fingers in and out, angled them until he found the right spot, and America arched back again with a cry. "You deserve it!"

"Yes! Oh god, yes, I deserve this!"

Canada withdrew his fingers, working his pants open with the other hand. He smiled in satisfaction at the pathetic whimpers his brother was making, as he slicked some lube onto his cock. "I want to hear you scream, you asshole."

America drew in a deep breath. "Yes, make me scream."

"Stop agreeing with me!" Canada crawled atop America, shoving his legs back. This was it. No turning back. He was violating America in the worst way, irredeemably shattering their bond as brothers and as countries, betraying him. America would hate him...

Canada grit his teeth. The feeling was mutual, right? With an angry yell, he drove into America's body, sliding in to the hilt with one thrust.

"Oh god!" America gasped. "Oh god, Matt, fuck...!"

"This is what you get," Canada said, swallowing. "I'm so sorry it had to come to this. I'm sorry!" He moved his hips, pulling out, then thrust in again, harder.

"Ahh! Oh god! Oh _Canada_!"

"S-stop!" Canada punctuated each word with a sharp thrust. "Stop... enjoying it... you... idiot!"

America moaned, rocking his own hips up to meet Canada's thrusts, squeezing delightfully around his brother's cock.

"You're supposed to be... to be horrified!" Canada shook sweaty hair out of his eyes. "I'm violating you! I'm betraying you!"

"Y-yeah..." America wrapped his limbs around Canada. "Ah! M-maybe... maybe I'll be more horrified if you... if you do me harder. Harder!"

Canada drove harder into America, but even at his most delusional he could not pretend that the scream torn from America's throat was at all horrified. He groaned in rapidly building ecstasy, leaning over to kiss America again. When America misbehaved and kissed back, Canada tweaked a nipple in punishment.

"F-fuck..." America breathed. "Fuck, Matt, I..."

Canada just grunted. He reached between them to take his brother's cock in hand, because it was unthinkable to not do that for him, feeling it twitch in his grasp and coat his hand in sticky warmth when America came, crying out his rapist's name.

It didn't take many more thrusts for Canada to follow him over the edge, losing himself in the intense sensation. He moved his hips shallowly as he came down from the high, throat raw from whatever he had screamed in the heat of the moment. Then Canada finally pulled out and flopped bonelessly beside America.

They lay like that for quite some time, sweat cooling on their skin and pulses returning to normal as they recovered, limbs tangled together.

And then, Canada felt like somebody had tossed a bucket of ice water on him. He jerked upright in bed with a pained cry. _What have I done? Oh god, what have I_ _ **done**_ _?_

The anger he had felt toward his brother had faded. His mind was plagued by much different memories now. Little America taking the blame when Canada did something that would anger their colonizer, playing games together, sharing secrets, laughing together, America angrily defending his brother against others' negative comments, watching sports together...

All gone. Canada had severed that connection forever with a vile act. He had hurt his brother. America might never recover from the trauma.

"I... I'm so... so sorry." Canada buried his face in his hands and wept.

"Oh, hey..." America sat up, settling beside Canada and putting an arm around him. "Shh, don't cry."

"B-but... I...!"

"Aww, poor guy. Want to watch a movie? Order room service?"

Canada shook his head.

"C'mere. Let it all out." America held Canada close, stroking a hand through his hair. Canada clung to him as he cried, neither of them saying anything further until Canada cried himself to sleep, head pillowed in his victim's lap.

* * *

"What a surprise," Germany grumbled as their second attempt at a meeting began. "America's still missing. And now Canada is, too."

England and France exchanged another worried look. He wouldn't really... Would he...?

"I'm so sorry we're late," Canada said from the doorway, bowing his head. "Really really sorry. We're here now." He hurried to his chair. Right behind him, America limped to his own seat, wincing slightly as he settled into it.

The other assorted nations watched America in growing horror. Chairs scooted away from Canada, including Russia's. England and France glared at him.

America scooted closer, putting a protective arm around his brother and glaring back, much to the confusion of absolutely everyone.

Canada leaned into him with a sigh. He had long ago stopped trying to make sense of America.


End file.
